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#315 Make a Wish

The Reedsy Prompts newsletter has come a long way since it first landed in inboxes back in 2016. (Yup, that started way before our weekly writing contest was properly set up here!) What began as a simple idea — five weekly prompts to spark creativity — has grown into a global community of writers who have shared over 100,000 stories over the years.

This week, we’re proud to celebrate the 464th edition of our newsletter. That’s 464 weeks of worlds built and characters brought to life… all thanks to the creativity of writers like you!

Let’s mark this special occasion with a theme that couldn’t be more fitting: birthdays. But not just the cake-and-candle kind — we’re talking about personal milestones, fresh starts, and the quiet (or bold!) moments that mark a turning point.

🥇 Winner

Birthday Bones

Winner of Weekly Contest #315 🏆

The story’s the same every year. Light the candles, blow them out, eat the cake. I smile while everyone sings, I party with my friends, I have a few drinks, and I go home. Then, the second the clock hits 3:27, I sit up straight in bed and wait for my bones to break. It’s an ugly sight, my limbs cracking and twisting, and the smell of blood and marrow isn’t exactly the most appetizing thing. But the worst part for me, without a doubt, is the sound. The crunch and pop of bone, the whine of stretching skin, the wet splat of blood an...

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⭐️ Shortlisted

This week's prompts

Write a story that includes the word “birthday,” “birth,” or “party.”

– 67 stories

Your character meets someone who changes their life forever.

– 47 stories

Write a story with an age or date in the title.

– 36 stories

Set your story before dawn or after midnight. Your character is awake for a specific reason.

– 71 stories

Write about a second chance or a fresh start.

– 63 stories

Stories

March 1st

Weekly Contest #315

January 11th. That’s the day my life split into “before” and “after.”The MRI room is cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes your teeth want to chatter even if you’re not nervous. But I am. Dr. Vaheed sits across from me in the small consultation room, his hands folded like he’s trying to keep them from shaking. The scan images are still lit up on the monitor behind him, the black-and-white slices of my body that now mean something.“It’s osteosarcoma,” he says.Bone cancer.I stared at the floor. I’m nineteen years old, qua...

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The Prayer

Weekly Contest #315

(includes descriptions of death and war)Lana remembers her sixth birthday. Her mother gently woke her up in the morning, tenderly embracing Lana in her slender arms, the drapes of her long garments engulfing her daughter like a protective cocoon. Lana inhaled her mother’s scent and rejoiced in the comfort, avoiding putting any pressure on the bulge of her mother’s pregnant belly. Lana was worried her baby brother or sister would arrive today, but that likely wouldn’t happen. Today was all about her. She remembers her father and brother retu...

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Lost in the Middlelands

Weekly Contest #315

Private Eugene Crawford was lost. Stumbling over the uneven terrain, he had become separated from his unit during an attack on the German lines. It was a frosty morning, the kind that numbs you to the bones and stings your lungs each time you breath in. Fog mixing with gun powder from the battle had obscured his vison as cloud after cloud rolled on through. It seemed to him that his comrades took the high road, and he took the low road during the fiercest part of the fighting. Going over the top, he felt was nothing but utter suicide. B...

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One Beer, One Hour

Weekly Contest #315

One Beer, One Hour Like almost everyone I have dreams at night. They’re usually dreams about ordinary things and familiar people. But last Tuesday’s dream was different. It actually woke me up. It was so real I sat up in bed and looked around the room to be sure I was really there. My heart was pounding so I laid back down and stared at the ceiling. My alarm clock read 2:16 and all I could do was hope I’d be able to fall asleep again.The dream was about me, and I was in Clancy’s Pub, my favorite watering hole. I’d been there earlier in the e...

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Doom Scrolling

Weekly Contest #315

Sensative Content note - description of chronic pain I wish I could tell you I was awake for some interesting reason, maybe even something nefarious. Like some late night ritual to summon a demon, or even something fun like returning home after a night of drinking and karaoke. Unfortunately, I can’t. No, the reason is depressing and mundane, or at least mundane for me. You’re thinking insomnia, aren’t you? I wish. If it was insomnia, I could take some sleeping pills and finally crash. God, I am so tired. I want to be asleep, my brain is ...

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I hate my birthday.

Weekly Contest #315

I hate my birthday. I hate cake. I hate songs. I hate attention. I hate people coming to my house and giving me things I don't want. I hate the expectation of feeling different just because I've survived another year. And most of all, I hate people trying to convince me to like my birthday.If it were up to me, I'd sleep the whole day away. I'd miss my birthday, and the world would not acknowledge it. Unfortunately, today IS my birthday. I'm 73 today. As I look in the mirror, I see no change. My hair has been grey almost as long as I can reme...

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The Gift of 85 Years

Weekly Contest #315

The alarm clock rang. 7 AM. It’s my birthday. I walked slowly over to the bathroom in my blue striped pajamas. My glasses were still sticking out of my pants pocket. I grabbed them and slid them onto my face. “Ah.” I smiled. “Another year older.” In the mirror, I watched myself carefully shave the last patch of hair on my chin. “Ouch.” A small sting. Blood trickled down. The towel was already sitting on the sink. I pressed it against my face. It wasn’t the first time, and most certainly won't be the last. I glanced at the toilet and laughed...

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The Racoon, The Interviewer, and The Coffee-Maker

Weekly Contest #315

A raccoon had broken into Emma’s car.Four years of college and a shiny, new degree later, and she was still working jobs that barely paid the rent. This interview could change everything. A dream job with a better-than-dream paycheck. She was running on five hours of sleep and a cup of black coffee that certainly wasn’t hitting the same way a comfort late would have. At least she was running early.The cold morning air nipped her cheeks as she crossed the lot. Frost feathered the windshield, catching pale gold in the early sun. Her phone was ...

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June 20, 1998

Weekly Contest #315

1 At the beginning and end of each fall term, teachers at Northwest Community College convened for in-services and prep days before the students came back from break. Serena conducted teacher training sessions on using the new online portal to log student grades and track attendance. Last year, students began taking online exams, which was supposed to free up time for more teacher-student interaction. That’s not always how it went; for the digitally challenged, technology seemed to trip them up on the daily. They were Serena’s job security, ...

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The Magical Milkman

Weekly Contest #315

The Magical Milkman I can hear him coming. The dark night still clings to velvet shadows and silent surroundings, but the gentle hum of an approaching vehicle and the distant echoes of clinking glass chime his momentary arrival. Quickly, and careful not to awaken my sleeping sister, I leave the warm comfort of my bedcovers and steal softly across the room to my magic window. In anticipation, I gaze down the lonely avenue and await what has become a special secret known only to myself. Even he doesn’t know the power of his presence. Perhaps h...

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Mojo-Eating Trouble & A Second Chance

Weekly Contest #315

The screen door creaked open without a knock.Boo looked up from the chipped kitchen table, where a cold cup of coffee sat beside a stack of unpaid bills. Afternoon sunlight bled through the blinds in dusty stripes, cutting across her arms and the paper like pale prison bars.And there he was.“You mojo-eatin’, black ball-suckin’, Vernor’s-drinkin’ piece of leftover trash from the Fourth of July picnic—after the watermelon rind broke in two and wasn’t worth a damn thing.” Her voice came out sharp but steady, the kind she’d learned to use when s...

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Charmer.exe

Weekly Contest #315

Laura paced backstage as the presenter continued speaking. She struggled to focus on his words though. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, almost drowning out the presenter’s voice. “It's my honour to present tonight’s winner for Best Innovation in Artificial Intelligence,” the presenter said with a plastic smile. Laura paid him little attention as he began listing off the achievements of her app. She hated public speaking. It made her sick. So did speaking to people at all. It was why she’d designed Charmer in the first place. “Charmer has ...

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The Stowaway

Weekly Contest #315

This is as good a place as any, thought the Hunter. He had come to a forest of jagged rock formations after tracking his quarry on Onachus for three days, and having held off sleep for the last two. Now that he had passed another midnight hour, however, he needed a night’s rest before following the beast’s tracks into the labyrinth. It would be rough, but he couldn’t abandon his sole reason for being in this barren hellscape. It was the only known place to hunt the Beowulf.The Tarasquean Lupine Chimaera was indigenous to this solitary moon. ...

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The Uncanny Encounter

Weekly Contest #315

I turned thirty on a Tuesday.There wasn’t much ceremony to it. I went to work like usual, answered emails, deleted others. Had lunch by myself at my desk — a bland chicken salad that felt symbolic somehow. The office printer jammed again, and someone left a passive-aggressive Post-it on the communal fridge about labeling leftovers, creating a brief ruckus. Thirty came with the subtle realization that the life I had wasn’t quite the life I imagined. It was either the cornerstone of my journey, or the hindrance that devastates my path. It wasn...

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THE KEEPER OF THE HOUR

Weekly Contest #315

It was 3:17 am, the hour when even the city's hum seemed to pause. The streetlights flickered in their own rhythm, casting long shadows across the cobblestones of Alder Lane. On the rooftop of the old observatory, Maren adjusted the brass dial of the weather vane, her gloved fingers steady despite the chill. She wasn't there for stargazing. The telescope had long since been retired, its lens fogged with age. Maren's vigil was quieter than that-less about watching the stars, more about listening for what didn't belong. Every night, she climbe...

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